Patterns of Ignorance
by RodianSinger
Summary: Leila drugging Spock with the spores on Omicron Ceti wasn't just an isolated incident. It was part of her pattern. A continuing pattern... Rating may change later.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: God I hate Leila!**

Leila surveyed the bar that she had chosen to spend her evening in. It was a high class joint, like most of the places that peppered the big cities of Rigley's Pleasure Planet. She'd beamed down an hour ago along with several dozen crew members and a few of her colleagues with the intention of forgetting how the last week aboard the Enterprise hadn't gone at all as planned. She rested her chin in her hand thinking about the last time she'd been on board the ship less than a year ago.

After the failure of Omicron Ceti III, the original colonists had all gone their separate ways and Leila had applied for a research trip to Andor. She met the dozen other scientists that had been selected at the Benicia colony, and when their scheduled transport had been caught in an ion storm, the Enterprise had been there, like a sign meant just for her.

What else could it have been but fate that had placed her in Spock's path for the third time. Even he couldn't deny it, she was sure. A week and a half on board the Enterprise should have been a gift from god. Her chance to finally open his eyes and make him see. To crack through that rock hard veneer and set him free. To see him laugh and smile.

The flowers on Omicron Ceti had almost done it. They _had_ done it. If it hadn't been for Captain Kirk...

She looked down and realized that she was gripping her glass so tightly that she was in danger of shattering it. She relaxed her hold and brought it too her lips for another calming sip. All that was in the past. There was nothing to do now but make the most of this new opportunity.

Only, it hadn't worked out that way. She'd offered her talents in the science labs where they just happened to be studying the acidic flora gathered from the Eden planet a couple of weeks ago. As a xeno-botanist, her expertise was invaluable, and it should have been the perfect chance to spend time with Spock.

But instead she'd been shuffled off to the side to take her orders from a blond Nurse that she remembered from her last time on board. Chapel, she'd learned her name was. She had immediately disliked the uptight woman, being firmly of the opinion that medical staff should remain in sick-bay and let the real scientists do their jobs. Just the thought that the nurse had the audacity to order her around made Leila grind her teeth.

Even this, she could have forgiven if it weren't for the blatant favouritism that Spock showed towards her. After three insufferable days, Leila had complained directly to Spock himself about the ridiculousness of having a nurse in the labs. A nurse, she reminded him that had still been sweating through the last year of her Master's Degree while she herself had already been analyzing alien flora on newly discovered worlds. She even managed to remind him that they had met while on one such assignment.

Much to her displeasure, he'd dismissed her complaints, stating that since she was only temporarily aboard it would be illogical to install her in a higher position than she already was.

She supposed there was logic to his reasoning. And, it wasn't as though she considered Christine a rival. On the contrary she almost felt sorry for the poor girl, naive as she was. Leila had seen the way the Nurse sometimes looked at Spock in the labs when she thought no one was watching and it was all she could do to keep from laughing at the younger woman. The day they'd had on Omicron Ceti III had been wonderful, a uniquely beautiful experience shared between her and Spock. She knew it was only a matter of time before they revived their relationship, despite how he resisted (or tried to) and it almost made working under Chapel bearable. Almost.

The Enterprise had a few extra days to get them to Andor, so the Captain had approved a brief shore leave, which was how she came to find herself drowning her frustrations in a glass of Saurian brandy. She looked sideways at Christine who was sitting at the other end of the bar alone, people watching over the rim of her glass of soda.

Leila wrinkled her nose in distaste. It figured that the prudish nurse rarely drank. While the rest of the crowd that they'd been socializing with all evening had slowly succumbed to the alcohol, becoming increasingly rowdy and uninhibited, Christine had remained frigid and inaccessible. Even Uhura had grown pleasantly tipsy and was now engaging in some harmless flirtation with a very handsome Andorian bartender. At least she knew how to have a good time.

All evening, Leila had tried to draw Christine into conversation, show her that there was no hard feelings between the two of them, but she had remained politely distant, refusing her attempts to draw her into conversation, and preferring to sit quietly sipping her drink in solitude.

Some women just couldn't stand losing.

Leila reached into her purse for her compact, intending to check her appearance. Her hand brushed a thin silver case and her eyes went wide as inspiration struck. _It just might work._ She thought glancing back at Christine.

Quickly she flagged down the bartender. "Two Arturian cocktails". She ordered.

When the bartender returned with the two lurid pink concoctions she handed him her credit chip and opened the silver case to reveal a cluster of gel capsules. Being sure that no one was looking she pierced one with a cocktail sword and squeezed it into the glass on the left. She considered for a moment and then added a second capsule for good measure, mixing it in thoroughly.

The capsules contained a home remedy, one of her own concoctions which she used to treat a mild sleep disorder. It was an herbal extract that was relatively benign on it's own, but when mixed with alcohol it became a powerful narcotic.

She'd never tried mixing them before, but it seemed the perfect way to get Christine to loosen up a little and ,she admitted to herself, it would be extremely satisfying to see the holier-than-thou nurse brought down a few pegs.

Steeling herself, she walked over to Christine, being sure to keep the spiked drink in her left hand.

"Can I sit here?" She gave her best, most dazzling smile. "Everyone else seems to have abandoned us." This was true, the crowd they had started off with had gradually moved away one by one.

"Sure". Christine said, too polite to refuse.

Leila held out the left hand drink to her as she sat. "This is for you". She said graciously.

Christine shook her head, in the beginning of the all to familiar response Leila had been getting all night. "I'd rather n-".

"Look". Leila cut her off, changing her tactics. "I know we haven't gotten along the past week. That's my fault. I'm not used to working under anybody. And I know that I've been difficult, but I was hoping to make it up to you". She finished.

"I...," Christine began uncertainly, clearly thrown off guard by the open apology.

"You don't have to answer," Leila said quickly. 'Just accept this as a peace offering and maybe we could talk." She suggested.

Finally Christine relaxed slightly. "I understand how hard it can be on a ship where you hardly know anyone". She admitted. "I never wanted to make you feel unwelcome."

Leila briefly wondered just how much Christine knew about Spock's actions on Omicron Ceti III, but dismissed it as irrelevant. "You didn't". She replied. "I'm just not used to working under anybody even though, I know it doesn't matter. It's the end result that counts."

With the change of topic to their research, Christine finally seemed to warm to life, smiling slightly at the other woman. Her drink however still sat untouched between them.

"That is true. If you'd like, we could discuss some possible lines of research."

Leila saw her chance. "I'd like that," She said lifting her glass in a toast. "To scientific progress".

Christine now smiled broadly and finally lifted her own glass to return the gesture. There was the sound of glass clinking and then Leila watched with disguised glee as Christine raised hers to her lips and drank deeply.

Well, here's my first attempt at a multi-chapter story since the last one I tried failed miserably a few years ago. I promise I will do my best to finish this. It will be a relatively short story, so hopefully it won't be too intimidating.

**P.S. I already have a general idea of how the story will progress, but I am always open to suggestions from interested readers. Leave them in the comments section. I look forward to reading them.**


	2. Chapter 2

Christine leaned contentedly back in her seat, remembering just in time that she was perched on a bar stool and catching herself before she fell.

She was unexpectedly happy, considering how the last week had progressed. It was just proof that first impressions could often be entirely wrong.

Leila had been so gracious this evening, beginning with the drink and the surprisingly heartfelt apology. She was seeing the blond botanist in a whole new light now as the engaging intelligent individual that she was, despite her behaviour of the past week, and she couldn't help but like her.

Gradually Christine warmed up to her as their conversation continued. A comforting warmth spread throughout her and she rested her head on her arm, lulled into a tranquil state. She reached again for her glass and giggled when she realized how quickly it had emptied itself. She thought briefly about ordering another one, but she simply couldn't bring herself to raise her arm.

Leila was still going on about some scientist she'd known back on Earth, and Christine listened as best she could. But Leila's word seemed to be twisting themselves into knots as they moved through her ear canal and she couldn't make heads or tails of what she was saying. All she could make out from her tone of voice was that she had not liked whomever it was she was talking about.

_Somebody sounds grouchy._ Christine thought insanely, then giggled again at the thought. She could barely keep her eyes open now, but she dimly realized that she desperately needed to visit the ladies room.

Rousing herself from her relaxed stupor, she was startled to see how far away the floor seemed to have gotten in the last few hours. Surely it had been closer when she'd sat down. She gingerly lowered herself onto it and fought the wave of dizziness that washed over her as she did so. She had to grasp the stool with both hands to steady herself before moving off in what she thought was the general direction of the washroom, in a more or less straight line.

Colours and shapes danced before her eyes, fragmenting and then flying back together in a dizzying kaleidoscope around her, while the voices merged with the music to form on great pounding, throbbing assault on her ears.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the sensible part of her was screaming that something was terribly wrong, but that solitary voice was drowned out by the static that filled her brain.

She felt oddly light and happy, in a way that she couldn't remember ever feeling before. So she swatted at the little devil perched on her shoulder and silenced the voice of reason once and for all.

Leila chewed on her cocktail sword, a little more nervous that she was comfortable admitting. The alcohol, sedative mix had worked almost too well. It had been shocking to see Christine go from frigid inaccessibility to drunken mess in such a short time.

And then she'd lost her.

She'd been sure that Christine was about to pass out, if she hadn't already, the way she had her head down on the bar. She'd turned away for just a minute to politley rebuff the advances of a slightly intoxicated Tellaraite several years her junior (one of the officers she'd beamed down with) and when she'd turned back, Christine was gone.

In the state she was in, she shouldn't even have been walking.

Leila glanced around, hoping to spot her quickly without a fuss, but the crowd had swallowed her up. The bar was still absolutely packed at this hour and Christine could have gone in any direction. She could have left for all she knew.

Leila puzzled over her predicament for a short time, wondering whether she should go looking for her, or just leave her to make her own way back to the ship once she sobered up.

_Well, you see Captain, it was like this: I lost one of your officers after I drugged her, to make her more bearable._

Leila couldn't help but give a small snort of laughter at the thought of that scenario and she became painfully aware of just how much she herself had had to drink that night. _Time to call it a night._

She'd just about made up her mind to swallow her pride and find the missing nurse when, like a miracle, Christine appeared out of the crowd. And she wasn't alone.

"I believe this is yours." The line was delivered through a lopsided grin directly beneath a pair of hazel eyes and a head of curly blond hair.

"Daniels". Leila said, recognizing him as one of the lab technician's they'd been working with the past week. Fairly new to the Enterprise, he'd secured samples for them, prepped their experiments and helped log results for the higher up officers. Right now he was supporting an almost unconscious Christine with one arm around her waist. Her head lolled against his shoulder, eyes barely open, and Leila briefly wished she could get a quick picture of her compromising position to casually show to Mr Spock, who seemed to hold her in such high regard. This was just too good.

She held her hands up in mock defence. "I barely know her". She said, goodnaturedly. This whole night had been fun, but now that she was sure Christine hadn't wandered out into the street or anything, she'd be damned if she was made responsible for getting her back to the ship.

"Is there anyone around here that does?" Daniels asked, shifting his grip of Christine as she started to slide to the floor.

Leila looked around desperately for Uhura, who seemed to have left already. "Maybe we could call somebody..." She trailed off, her mind already moving to other things. _Spock would most certainly be in the labs right now. If she confronted him alone, no one else around...maybe..._

"I could take her". Daniels broke into her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. Right. Getting unconscious Christine back to her cabin.

"I was going back soon anyways," He continued. "You can stay here, I'll make sure she's okay". He assured her smiling crookedly and somehow still managing to support the completely boneless Christine.

"Well..." She was still undecided wavering between wanting to put on a responsible front and wanting to stay and have one more drink before heading to the confrontation in the labs. "Maybe I should..." She almost didn't feel like finishing the thought.

"I got it." Daniels insisted. "We'll see you tomorrow". He refereed to himself and Christine.

Eventually, pretending to care became to much effort. "Alright." Leila agreed. "See you tomorrow". She gave a coy little wave at him, and he responded with his silly grin.

Just one more drink, she decided, turning back to the bar. And then she'd go find Spock and go for broke, once and for all. Make it clear what she wanted from him. No more of this robotic iceman treatment, pretending that she wasn't special. He could treat everyone else that way but her...

She took a calming sip of her Romulan Ale, feeling the liquid courage slowly spread from her stomach into her bones to envelope her whole body, reassuring her that everything was going to be just fine.

What was meant to be, would be. And she was confident that she and Spock were meant to be. And when Christine sobered up she'd be properly trimmed down to size.

Leila was surprised to feel just the slightest stab of guilt at her actions, but she rationalized that the tall blond had been asking to get cut down a little. Besides, she'd left her in the capable hands of a fellow officer.

What could possibly go wrong?

**And that's chapter two. I feel accomplished, just getting this written. I may actually finish this story. Please review. I live off of your feedback.**


	3. Chapter 3

Two figures materialized on the transporter pad, one heavily supported by the other. Christine swayed dangerously as the feeling of weight returned suddenly.

"Oops". She said dazedly, after nearly yanking Daniels to the floor. "Sorry."

He managed to keep her standing and fished around in her purse for her identity card and showed it to the transporter operator along with his. "Crewmen Daniels and Lieutenant Chapel on board". He said.

The officer confirmed their identity. "Ma'am are you all right?" He addressed Christine, slightly alarmed at her intoxicated state.

"She's fine" Daniels assured him. "Just needs a little time to recover. You know how shore-leave is".

The transporter chief chuckled softly, but then asked, "Should I inform sickbay of your arrival".

"I don't think that will be necessary," Daniels replied. "She'll be sobered up by tomorrow".

Daniels gave him one final nod before stepping out into the corridor, the doors hissing shut behind them.

"Where're we going". Christine's voice sounded almost childlike.

"_You_ are going to bed". He answered patiently. They covered the rest of the distance to her cabin in relative silence, and thankfully didn't pass any more crewmen in the halls, who would ask about the apparent drunkenness of their normally so prim and proper head nurse.

"And here we are." Daniels said finding, thankfully that her door was unlocked. He palmed the door open and deposited Christine gently on the couch in her desk area. "Would you like a glass of water?" He asked uncertainly.

"Mmmm". Was the only sound she made, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the wall.

He took that to mean yes and after quickly relieving himself in her small shared bathroom, he poured her a small glass and crossed the room to where he'd left her. "Here". He said, trying to hand it to her.

She barely seemed aware of his presence. Her reclined position and the softness of the couch had all but lulled her to sleep. After a few unsuccessful attempts at getting her to drink, he set the glass aside and pondered what to next.

Perhaps he should just move her into her bed. He scrutinized her. She was a big woman, but he thought he could manage to carry her.

She shifted restlessly, moving her head side to side. The movement caused just a hint of lacy beige bra to peak out above the neckline of her dress, drawing his attention. His eyes moved, of their own accord, from the bit of undergarment down to her famously long legs which were almost entirely exposed now.

Those legs, which had been the subject of many a dirty joke in the lower decks. Officers, snickering behind their hands when she walked by, made innuendos regarding "crew physicals" and "playing doctor". And her, completely oblivious to their attention, her innocence somehow making her that much more attractive.

Instinctively, he reached over to pull her skirt back to a more respectable length, from where it had ridden up to. But instead he found himself resting his hand on her warm thigh.

His head spun, phrases echoing in his ears. _An officer is always a gentlemen. An officer performs with professionalism and dignity. An officer..._

He couldn't concentrate. His mind was reeling with the alcohol that he had consumed that night. He'd knocked back quite a few stiff ones, trying to get up the courage to talk to the nurse. He'd been on board less than a month, working near her in the labs, thinking up excuses to come by sickbay. She'd always treated him politely, warmly even, but always with an air of professional detachment.

He'd vowed that tonight would be the night he broke through that, going to the same bar as her, watching her across the room. He'd even followed her when she'd staggered away to the bathroom intent on finally making his move, only to find her hopelessly intoxicated. He wasn't even sure she recognized him.

He couldn't resist moving his hand upwards slightly, towards the juncture of her legs. She shifted again, but otherwise didn't react, her eyes still tightly shut. He studied her face, in the dim light from her sleeping area. She was beautiful, and open, and vulnerable. But only temporarily.

By tomorrow, whatever this was, would have worn off and she'd be right back to her frigid, professional self. The inaccessible nurse who probably didn't even uncross her legs to go to the bathroom.

_She'll never know. _The thought startled him. But he was right, he realized. What harm could there be. Everything would be back to normal the next morning. _Like it never happened._

To far gone to stop now, he searched up under her skirt for her underwear. She was wearing it alright, not that he was surprised, and it wasn't very sexy underwear either. Plain cotton briefs with an elastic waistband. Not that it mattered anyways.

It took a couple awkward minutes of manoeuvring to get it off, and he tossed it away without a glance at where it landed.

His manipulations caused her to tip over against one of the arms of the couch, and he adjusted her so that she was lying on her back, in a reclining position, one leg hanging off the couch.

Her stillness only fuelled his excitement and he ran his hand along the neckline of her dress, pulling it down slightly to reveal more beige lace overlaying creamy pale skin that was pleasantly warm to the touch. His other hand moved up to her hair, which she had left down in contrast to how she normally wore it. He pulled his fingers through the soft strands, deciding that he liked it better this way. Then he tilted her head towards him slightly and kissed her still lips.

Finally, unable to wait any longer he reached for the fly of his pants. His whole world was narrowed down to this room, and this woman, whom he had desired so long, but never been able to get near. Tonight he would finally get what he wanted.

The labs were empty. All the usual personnel were either down on the planet below, were sleeping, or otherwise occupied.

Spock finished logging the results of his experiment. It was actually part of a joint project between him and Miss Chapel, but he had elected to perform this stage by himself in light of the crew's shore leave. He liked to take advantage of the empty lab, and with McCoy and the Captain planet side with the rest of the crew, it had seemed the most productive way to spend his evening. So not surprisingly he'd elected to stay behind.

It was late in the ship's cycle when he left the labs, after cleaning and restoring the equipment that he'd used. He always believed in keeping an orderly workspace.

The data pad he carried held the results of the experiment, backed up several times for insurance. He intended to drop a copy off at Miss Chapel's quarters for her to go over in the morning. Although he doubted that she would be back from her shore leave yet, he knew from experience that she usually left her door unlocked, and it wasn't uncommon for one of them to drop by the others quarters for just this reason.

He stepped into the torbolift and gripped one of the handles. "Deck three." He commanded. As the lift began to move, he reflected on the past week.

It was always a disruption of ship's routine when the Enterprise was forced to take on passengers, but this was one occasion when he'd not found it intrusive. The scientists they had picked up at Benicia while handing Janice Lester over to the authorities had inserted themselves seamlessly into the day to day operations of the ship. Something he appreciated greatly as executive officer.

He still couldn't understand Kirk and McCoy's inexplicable fixation on Dr Kalomi. All week, they'd been needling him about his prior association with her. Jokingly but often mixed with real concern. It was a concern however that he did not share. He had made himself very clear to her the last time they had parted ways. And the time before that. And of course she'd been aware that the spores had caused him to behave uncharacteristically. So logically, he saw no reason they couldn't work together in a professional capacity, despite the fact that McCoy and Jim insisted that this was impossible.

He so very rarely understood the system of logic that his human companions seemed to operate under.

He pushed the idle speculation aside as he exited the turbo-lift. There was no point in dwelling on human irrationality, he could only accept it and move on.

Chapel's quarters were located near the end of the corridor, and he covered the distance quickly, eager to deliver the pad and return to his own room for the night.

He raised his hand to the keypad, finding the door unlocked as he had suspected and pressing the open command. The door slid away with a soft hiss, and for the first time in his life, Spock was rendered speechless and motionless by the sight he found therein.

**Well. This is officially the most graphic thing I've ever written. The darkest too. **

**And poor Spock. He doesn't seem to understand human females at all. (sigh)**

**I abandoned my last story after the third chapter, so I'm not out of the danger zone until I've posted the fourth chapter. Keep your finger's crossed.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here it is, chapter four, sorry for the wait. I hope I didn't get anyone too worried. There should be at least one more chapter after this to wrap everything up. Please review. I like to know how I'm doing.**

Spock's eyes swept over the room, taking in every detail of the scene with practiced efficiency.

A clearly incapacitated Christine was lying limply on the couch, with crewman Daniels poised over her, one hand at her collarbone, holding her down and the other hand undoing the fastening at the front of his pants. He was frozen, staring guiltily at Spock, his expression leaving no doubt as to what he had just interrupted.

All of this was observed and noted in the space of a nanosecond before the spell broke and Spock regained his composure. "Crewman," He said, with a dangerous edge to his voice as though struggling to maintain control. "What is the meaning of this?"

Daniels held his hands up defensively, a look of panic showing on his face as the severity of the situation registered for him. "Sir. It's...it's not what it looks like". He fumbled for an explanation, his eyes darting back to Christine who was stirring weakly, looking around her, an alarmed look slowly creeping over her features as she became aware of the situation.

Spock hit the intercom on the wall, ignoring Daniels completely. "Security to deck three, section C, Nurse Chapel's quarters".

Daniels continued to babble, directing his words first at Christine, and then Spock. "I can explain, It's not what you think... I-" His words were cut off as the heel of Christine's hand slammed into his face with an audible crunch. He fell back, blood spurting from a broken nose.

"Son of a..." He didn't finish the sentence, clutching his nose painfully.

Christine was now struggling to her feet, but the act of hitting Daniels seemed to have drained the last of her strength and she collapsed weakly, still trying to pull her disarranged dress back over her.

Spock moved to help her into a sitting position, putting himself between her and Daniels who was still sitting on the floor dazedly holding his broken nose. Although gallant, his gesture was hardly a necessary one, as it appeared that crewman Daniels would no longer be a threat.

"Sir?" Ensign Zahn appeared at the door, flanked by two other security men, peering questioningly at the scene before them.

"Take crewmen Daniels to the brig". Spock addressed the younger Vulcan. "I believe he will go without a fight."

"Yes sir." The three officers moved over to where Daniels lay. As predicted, the inebriated man went quietly. Spock had only known him a short time, but he seemed to him to be reasonable enough to know that any resistance would not aid his case.

Spock turned back to Christine, checking her pulse, which he found alarmingly slow. Her breathing was slowed to match and she seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness. He decided that her condition was far too severe to have been caused by alcohol consumption.

"Have sickbay send someone." He ordered Zahn, who nodded in acknowledgement. Daniels should have taken her straight there to begin with. However, Spock reflected, getting Christine to sickbay had clearly not been the first thing on Daniel's mind.

He forced down the feeling of disgust that welled up in his throat at that thought. Personal feelings were irrelevant. As first officer he was responsible for any disciplinary action taken against a member of the crew. And he would see to his duties...later. Right now his duty was to attend to his crew. He would go with her to sickbay and deal with Daniels in the morning, after the man had sobered up.

"She's not in any danger". M'Benga pronounced a short while later. "All we can do is keep her under observation until the drug has run it's course".

"So it was deliberate then?" Spock confirmed, scanning the readings above Christine's bed.

"We have no way of knowing tonight". M'Benga said grimly, coming to stand next to Spock. Doctor McCoy was still enjoying his shore leave with the Captain and both officers had agreed that it would be best if he didn't hear about any of this until Daniels was safely off the ship. "And unless the crewman confesses, you have no proof".

He was right, although attempted rape in itself was a charge severe enough to end a career. It would have to do.

"I have to finish my medical report", The doctor said, gathering his material. He stopped briefly to address the first officer before leaving . "There's really nothing else to be done until she wakes up."

Spock realized he was being kicked out. M'Benga would disappear into his office soon, leaving the duty nurse to monitor Christine's condition.

Out of curiosity, he stopped at the medical scanner that had been used to analyze her blood to see the results for himself. He scrolled through the readouts.

Quite suddenly he straightened up, his mouth set in a grim tight line, and strode out of sickbay ignoring the slightly bewildered looks from Dr M'Benga and Nurse Owens.

Leila yawned so wide that her jaw cracked. After one final drink for luck, she had finally conceded that it might be time to call it a night. She'd found her way to the transporter pad with the assistance of a very helpful busboy who'd kept trying to slip her the call number for his private transmitter.

Now, she found herself on board the Enterprise, stumbling slightly as the transporter beam released her. She smoothed a hand over her dress, regaining her composure.

The transporter technician nodded in greeting as she showed him her visitor ID.

Despite that last drink, she felt remarkably clear headed as she left the room. Her destination was the labs and she was headed there with one purpose in mind and one purpose only. The evening had gone unexpectedly well. She couldn't help but feel a small frisson of evil delight when she thought about what she had done. Christine, once she had sobered up, shouldn't be a problem from now on.

"Deck six". She said as the turbolift doors shut behind her. She leaned her head against the wall, eyes closed rehearsing what she would say to Spock.

She was abruptly pulled from her happy planning when the turbolift stopped unexpectedly, much to her annoyance.

Annoyance, which immediately turned to surprised delight when the door slid open to reveal just the person she'd been on her way to see.

"Spock". She smiled before her brain registered the grim expression in his face, which was echoed in his rigid bearing.

She fell back a step, her smile faltering as he stepped wordlessly into the turbolift never taking his eyes from her.

No sooner had the turbolift started moving than Spock's hand slammed down on the emergency brake, causing the lift to jerk to a stop, throwing her off balance.

"Spock?" Shock was quickly turning to confusion.

Abruptly, Spock's hand darted out again, this time to snatch the strap of her purse from her shoulder.

"Hey!"

He either didn't hear her or didn't care. He pawed at the contents of her purse with his free hand, finally drawing out the silver case that she kept her sleeping meds in. She had told him about it the first time they'd met, even letting him analyze the contents for her. It had seemed like a very sweet gesture on his part at the time.

Now however , something told her that she was about to regret it.

He tossed the purse carelessly back to her. "What is this Spock?" She asked accusingly, becoming downright mad.

Right now Spock was confirming the contents of the little silver case. Apparently satisfied he snapped it shut again, finally saying, "An analysis of this should prove interesting, don't you think?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked accusingly.

"What I mean Doctor Kalomi," He replied tersely, "Is that I believe proper testing will show this to be an exact match to the drug responsible for Nurse Chapel's condition at this time". He chose not to elaborate, leaving the rest to Leila's imagination.

"Condition?" There was a hint of concern in her voice, although somehow he doubted it was for Christine.

He continued as though she hadn't spoken. "However as with any medical matter, time is of the essence and it would be considerably more efficient if you'd simply tell me the crucial details".

Leila felt a creeping sense of panic come over her. Whatever was wrong with Christine, she was positive that her concoction wasn't responsible, and there was no way that she was taking the fall for something she hadn't done.

"There is nothing harmful in those and you know it". She said defiantly. "I may have used them on her but there's no way they caused whatever it is that's wrong with her. You can test them again yourself, they're perfectly safe".

Spock's only reply was a raised eyebrow. Truthfully he hadn't expected such a blatant confession so soon. He kept his expression neutral and glanced up at the ceiling of the torbolift.

She followed his gaze, noticing for the first time the security camera set into the ceiling recording everything for three hundred and sixty degrees around it. These sort of camera's were commonplace around the ship and she'd grown not to notice them.

"Did you know that the Enterprise uses audio recording devices as well as visual?" He asked conversationally, seeing the look of dawning realization creeping over her face. "It may also interest you to know that administering medication without consent is a crime within federation space."

"I..." Leila trailed off, at a loss for words, just realizing how neatly he'd trapped her with her own confession so willingly given. She cursed herself for her stupidity.

While she fumbled for some kind of defence, Spock reached past her for one of the torbolifts handles.

"Deck nine". He commanded. The brig.

"Spock please." She tried to appeal to the part of him she'd known on Omicron Ceti. The part that had hung upside down from a tree branch for her amusement.

But that part of him seemed gone. "Formal charges will be brought against you. By Starfleet, and I'm sure by Miss Chapel when she regains consciousness. I would suggest that you remain silent for the remainder of your stay."

"You're really going to do this? To me." She asked in disbelief. "What about us?"

"Us?" He asked, his brow furrowing. "To whom are you referring?"

"You and me. We...I thought... After everything we've shared, you'd turn on me like this". Tears began to well up in her eyes.

His face remained impassive, untouched by her dramatics. He knew from experience that it was easier just to let her run through her standard performance before trying to speak with her again.

She was turning away from him now, hugging herself as she sobbed. This was supposed to be his cue to reach out to her, turn her towards him and assure her that it was alright.

That had been his mistake last time, he reflected, playing into her theatrics. He had wanted to end his association with her on a positive note. At the time, he'd pitied her for her ignorance regarding him. But now he had the added advantage of knowing that her ignorance was more wilful than natural.

He'd been patiently understanding with her enough times already. Now, he would let her play out her routine uninterrupted till they reached the brig.

Gradually her tears subsided, as she realized that he was unmoved by them. He should have said something by now, taken her in his arms and told her that he still cared deeply for her. She wiped her eyes, turning to see him staring straight ahead at the gray walls of the torbolift, with his usual Vulcan calm. What she would have given to see him smile or cry, anything but that infuriating unreadable blankness.

"That's it then?" she asked disbelievingly. "Do you not care about me at all? Are you really that heartless?"

He turned the word over in his mind. Was he heartless? The image of Christine, helpless beneath crewman Daniels flashed through his mind, accompanied by surge of almost animalistic fury, which he parcelled away and buried with years of practice. But it was undeniably present.

"No." He answered at last. "I am not heartless. I'm Vulcan. There's a difference".

Just then. The turbolift ground to a halt at deck nine, where Leila would be handed over to security, till they reached the nearest star base.

Spock had no regrets whatsoever.


	5. Chapter 5

**Last chapter, sorry it took so long. I got lazy.**

Christine carefully folded the expensive party dress that Ilori* had bought her for her birthday. It had taken the beautiful communications officer weeks to convince her to actually wear the outlandishly short bit of silk and chiffon and now she placed it back in it's embossed, gold leaf decorated box and tipped the whole thing into the recycler slot. Better to forget.

Doctor McCoy's face had turned about seven different shades of purple when M'benga had given him the medical report that morning. It might've been comical if it had been under different circumstances. It had taken all the Captain's diplomatic skills to keep the Doctor from storming the brig.

Christine had been released that same morning with no ill effects from the medication Leila had slipped her and the Captain had given her the day off.

That had been eight hours ago. She didn't dare venture out into the corridor, where she might meet a crew member from the night before. Someone who'd seen her with crewman Daniels, apparently drunk, making a total fool of herself. Word would have gotten around the ship. The embarrassment, she felt, was the hardest to bear.

She flopped down on her bed, exhaling in frustration. She was climbing the walls. Couldn't leave, couldn't stay, couldn't remember. There was a gaping hole in her recollection of the night before that started at the bar, with her fingers curled around her empty glass and ended with her waking in sickbay to the sounds of Dr McCoy's rage drifting from his office to her bed.

M'Benga had given her the short version while he checked her readings. She'd found out the details later from Mr Spock when he'd come by before her release.

"You'll be relieved to hear that both Crewman Daniels and Dr Kalomi are being brought up on formal charges". He'd told Christine, who was still reeling from the shock of the betrayal. She'd only nodded dumbly.

"I thought she was finally warming up to me". Christine said. "I thought she was shy because she didn't know anybody". She herself remembered feeling that way during her first days on board the Enterprise.

Spock was all too familiar with Leila's manipulative ways, having been a victim of them once himself. "I am sure she wanted it to appear that way." He replied.

"I never did anything to her. I was never anything but nice to her, and I thought I could trust her. Why would she do this?" A hint of anger was creeping into her voice.

"I once had cause to ask myself that same question," Spock said flatly. "There is no logical answer".

"I'm sorry." Christine said suddenly, prompting him to raise an eyebrow questioningly.

"What for?" He asked.

She looked away while she answered. "I know you were closer to her. This must have been harder for you than for me. And I know you must be worried about what's going to happen to her".

"Worry is a human emotion". He said, typically Spock-like. His tone immediately softened and his next comment , startled her. "We were never as close as she might have you believe, and I admit I was more _concerned _about your well being than her's".

She'd looked at him, her eyes full of tentative surprise. She'd heard the rumours about them during the Omicron Yeti incident and inferred a certain amount from Leila's attitude towards him during the past week. Was he saying that it was all untrue? Did she dare to hope?

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear." He continued, "And I can assure you that my relationship with her, as it was, is over. I hope you will be willing to testify when the time comes". He stood abruptly. "I will send the details to your private terminal later today. Is there anything else you require?"

She would have liked to have continued their conversation, he had seemed to be working up to a point, but she knew he was needed on the bridge, so she simply said, "No. I can manage". She watched him leave, not missing his momentary pause at the door when he turned back to glance at her.

She hadn't stopped thinking about it since. Turning his words over in her mind. Did he mean what she thought he meant? Or had she just wanted to hear it?

She glanced at her chrono and realized that he was off duty as of half an hour ago. He must've had time to send her the details of the case. She activated her private terminal, wincing a little when her wrist twinged unexpectedly. Breaking Daniel's nose had been one part of the night that she did remember, but she hadn't braced her wrist properly when she had. She couldn't help smiling a little at the thought.

Two new messages showed on her screen, both of them from the Commander. She opened the first one and scrolled through it quickly. It was indeed the information package she'd been expecting but she found that she couldn't concentrate.

He'd probably just been expressing concern for a fellow officer. Most likely exacerbated by the guilt he felt regarding his relationship with Leila. She sighed deeply, closing the communique. It wasn't a happy thought but at least if she kept her hopes down it would protect her from getting her heart broken again.

This whole thing would blow over eventually, once the case was settled. She would remain on board the ship, Spock would deal with these events however he saw fit, and their relationship would remain exactly as it was before. Colleagues, and nothing more.

It was really just a coincidence she reasoned, opening Spock's second message. He had just been delivering a lab report when he'd walked in on Crewman Daniels. It could have been anyone. And anyone else would have done taken the same initiative in that situation. It was pure luck that he'd known Leila well enough to catch her out so quickly. And for that she was thankful.

Really when she thought about it, he was-

Her train of thought abruptly cut off when she registered his message. She read the single line of text again to be absolutely certain. It read:

Would you care to join me for dinner tonight?

**The End.**

**Alright sorry for the abrupt ending. This was kind of a clumsy first attempt. I swear someday I will write an honest to god SCH, but it has to be perfect so give me time. Any advice from you known SCH'ers would be much appreciated. **

* see premises of my fiction on my profile for explanation.


End file.
